Neckties
by DramioneLurver
Summary: A certain Slytherin keeps losing his neckties. Where could they be disappearing off to? DMHG


A/N: _**bold italics**_ are his thoughts… _italic_s are simply for focus or accent or whatever stuff… so, this was written for the dmhgficexchange at livejournal as a gift for Rederythros. Prompt --- Wanted: neckties, jealous!Draco, Hogwarts setting; Dealbreakers: not a lot of angst.

My best friend (penname: victoria anne stauffer) wrote a shorter version of kinda the same thing when I told her about my ideas for the ficexchange, so go check hers out, too!

Disclaimer: alas… JKR was born way before me. Hence the characters in no logical way could be mine. Darn.

* * *

Twenty. He had started out the year with twenty of them. An entire score. They were, of course, of varying patterns- vertical stripes, horizontal stripes, dreaded polka dots, triangles, rectangles, strange geometric shapes that exist unnamed due to their complexities, big print, small print, stars, solid colors – of multiple shades of the classic green and silver that had always adorned his attire.

Well, had until he lost them. Over the past month he had lost nineteen neckties. Looking into the floor length mirror, he wrapped the last tie around his neck. This last one, his favorite that he had been given for Christmas two years ago, was the only one he had been able to find when he had searched his entire trunk of clothing. He glanced behind him through the mirror, grimacing at the messy sight of his empty trunk laying upside down next his bed, which was overflowing with piles of mixed clean and not-so-clean items of black, white, and green attire. Still, the matter of his disappearing neckties bothered him.

Retrieving his wand from his bedside table and tucking it into his pocket of his school robes, he whisked his school bag onto his shoulders, gave his reflection one last glance in the mirror, he left his dorm room with a swish of his cloak. Emerging into the Slytherin Common Room, a quick sweep told him it was already empty, all of the other students at breakfast, no doubt. Last night had been quite busy for him, so he had accidentally slept in this morning. No worry, he could go without breakfast today.

The trip from the dungeons up to the Charms room was rather long, longer than his usual Monday morning trip t the classroom from the Great Hall, but he managed to arrive right before the bell rang. Settling down at the end of a line of his fellow Slytherins, he dropped his bag nosily to the floor before slouching in his seat, lazy gaze and soft frown perfecting his 'Does it look like I care?' attitude.

Professor Flitwick's squeaky, high-pitched voice called for the students to quiet and pay attention, but the Slytherin simply droned out the noise, eyes drifting towards the students on the other side of the classroom.

Monday morning, Charms with the Gryffindors. Not his favorite class in his schedule, to say the least. Today the jolly bunch were just as chat happy as ever, whispering and writing notes to each other while Flitwick continued to lecture, seemingly unaware that none of his students were even paying attention.

Scratch that. One student was paying attention. Of course. How could he forget? Between the two gits she called friends that were currently failing to discreetly complete a game of HangWizard no doubt began during the morning's breakfast sat none other than Hermione Granger, proudly Muggle-born bookworm and strait O prefect of Gryffindor's group of sixth years. Her quill was scratching out notes furiously as her teeth - much smaller since that incident years before – nibbled down on her lower lip. He rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of her antics before drifting his gaze back to the blackboard upon which chalky words were being written. He skimmed over the passages he had not bothered to listen to about the new charm methods they were learning but it was mostly the background review crap that he already knew. Always the beginning of the lessons was a simple review of previous curriculum, and always the Gryffindor girl still took notes as if she was receiving the answers for the NEWT tests.

His gaze returned to the girl in question as the chalkboard erased itself to make room for the words currently spewing from Professor Flitwick's mouth – this time actually about the new methods being introduced that day. The charm was a simple one, from what the Slytherin could tell, not first year simple, but defiantly nothing he couldn't handle. He let his eyes drift from the bobbing feather quill the bookworm he was watching held, to the hand that so tightly grasped its end. Her small, slender fingers delicately wrapped around the tip were no doubt calloused and covered with little black dye stains. Her nails were rough from all the nervous scratching against her teeth they went through during her studies. Her right sleeve was pushed up to the elbow to allow easier maneuvering while writing and an excellent view of her soft skin that could use the minute or two she never took to apply some lotion. The regular school uniform, with her house's signature accents, fell lightly upon her shoulders, a strange shape that was not quite round but defiantly not square. Her hectic hair fell all over the place, a frizzy mess that got easily tangled and not-so-easily smooth. A lack of direct sunlight made the almost-curls of brown look darker than they usually did in the daytime. Her left hand haphazardly tucked some of the curls behind her rear and he could see her face clearly, eyes darting from paper to board to Professor Flitwick and back again as she took notes. The dark swirls of chocolate danced with a hint of happiness and he knew she had been having a good day so far.

**'**_**That's gonna have to change**__.'_

He smirked to himself, gray eyes gaining a mischievous sparkle as thoughts swirled through his head. The smirk quickly morphed into a frown as Flitwick announced that they would now be trying out the new spells on the balloons that appeared suddenly in front of each student. The required movements were carefully drawn out on the board and the Professor was repeating the correct pronunciation and annunciation, waving his hands to signal he wanted the rest of his students to join him in the chant of strange syllables. Rolling his eyes, the Slytherin whipped out his wand and pointed it at the blue balloon that was bobbing around the top of the table in front of him. His wrist and arm bending in the non-sensical pattern, the words emptied from his mouth, not exactly how the professor had been dictating them, but close. The result was not a resounding burst of balloon, though his balloon did swell in size considerably.

All around him students were getting similar results. Some managed to swell their balloon to two, three times its original size; others got no reaction at all. The Slytherin searched for Longbottom within the glomeration of Gryffindors, wondering if the backwards boy had somehow managed to shrink the object they were trying to blow up. Hmmm, perhaps Finnigan had finally found a spell that he could actually do.

He was laughing gently to himself when a single burst echoed through the room. Rolling his eyes, he and the rest of the students in the class had no doubts as to who had perfected the spell and burst their balloon. Nevertheless, Flitwick announced, "Well done Miss Granger! Tens points to Gryffindor!"

The Slytherin snickered as the girl colored slightly, pretending to be modest in front of her grumbling friends who undoubtedly would fail to master the spell before the end of the period. Nevertheless she kept performing the spell a handful of times, the sounds of exploding rubber balloons filling the room. When she had finally ensured herself that she could do the spell perfectly, she turned to her friends to talk to them while they continued practicing. The red-headed git quickly lowered his wand in favor of the conversation.

The Slytherin scowled at the Gryffindor boy's actions, fingers tightening around his wand aggressively. He watched, grey eyes piercing the trio as the raven-haired boy joined in the apparently amusing talk. The girl's light laughter filled the air and the Slytherin clenched his jaw to a nearly painful position. The Slytherin on his left called his name and poked him with their wand probingly, getting a swift turn, a sharp reprimanding, and a threatening glare in return.

Across the room the Gryffindor girl turned ever so slightly in her seat, her gaze from the corner of her eyes briefly meeting his and he didn't bother to cover his bad mood. She smiled and let out another small laugh before turning back to her fellow Gryffindor pals. The Slytherin continued to glare at the trio has the red-haired boy teasingly snatched the girl's wand, waving it around and claiming, in a high-pitched, overly-girly voice, "I'm Hermione Granger and I do everything _perfec__t_! Watch me! Now I will make Ron get a good grade on his Charms test!"

The Slytherin started to growl softly and his classmate raised his eyebrows in question before simply ignoring him and turning back to the task at hand. As the girl jumped up and down, trying to reach her wand from where the tall red-head with annoyingly long arms kept it, the growling grew gradually louder. The Slytherin dropped his wand onto the table in fear of breaking it in two from the grip he had held onto it beforehand.

When he saw the red-head grin in satisfaction as the girl leaned into him as she finally grabbed her wand back, he could no longer withhold the emotions bursting inside him.

Not wanting to cause a scene, but needing to escape, the Slytherin abruptly jumped to his feet, twisted around with a swirl of his black cloak, and started walking hastily towards the exit.

Professor Flitwick noticed, of course (though he managed to _not_ notice the repulsive display the trio of Gryffindors had been displaying moments before, the Slytherin boy noted with disgust), and began to call out, "Where do you think you are going, Mr—"

"Loo," he harshly interrupted, slamming the door firm shut as he left.

Not soon after he rounded the first corner, the distant sound of a door opening and closing reached his ears. Hurriedly he pressed himself into a shadowed alcove in the corner as he waited for the girl he would bet her life she was coming.

Her gentle, teasing voice reached him first.

"Aww…" she whispered to the darkness, "Did the lil Slytherin get _jeeeeal_-"

With a growl he emerged from the shadows of the alcove, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her against him roughly, her words dissolving into a small shriek of mixed surprise and delight. The only sound either made next were sight groans as he crushed his lips to hers.

Fumbling the entire way, she maneuvered them down the hall until he was leaning against the hard grain of the wooden door to an old classroom, her petite body leaning heavily upon his in return. Her hand left the soft, silky threads of his hair to grasp the door handle, quickly turning it the sliding the door open.

He spun them around, once again closing the door as he pushed her against it.

"I hate it when he touches you," his husky voice grumbled. Her only response was to blush slightly and deliver a copy of his own smirk. For a moment she seemed to be about to reply, but another attack of his lips to her own left her adequately silent.

His hands traveled from her tangled brown locks of messy hair to the tie she wore loosely around her neck, tugging at the gentle knot for a second before it easily slip open. He let the fabric descend to a pool around her feet before she shoved him away, quickly his stumbling to the desk he had practically fallen upon.

"I love it when you get jealous," she finally responded, a primal sort of fire evident in her voice.

He loved the dark way her eyes shown as she came unto him again, mouth and tongue provoking his into a fierce battle which he doubted would end in anything other than a draw. One hand resumed the eternal exploration of his hair while the other worked on the clasp of his cloak. Once undone, the heavy, black cloth found its way onto the floor to the couple's right. It then continued on to the necktie he had token such care to tighten perfectly around his collar this morning, quickly untying the knot and flinging it aside before moving down the buttons of his shirt, nimble fingers tantalizingly brushing against his skin as they flew south.

**'**_**Hmmm… maybe that's where all of my neckties have been disappearing to**__,'_ he thought with a grin, giving the corner where the last of his ties laid before returning to his secret girlfriend's lusty gaze.

_**'Well at least they're going to a good cause…'**_


End file.
